Costa Rica on Film: Kodak Gold 200 with the Minolta Weathermatic
There is a certain kind of magic that happens when you travel with a film camera. Unlike digital, there’s no checking the back of the screen, no instant gratification, no deleting the frames that don’t feel “good enough.” Each click of the shutter is a leap of faith, a small act of trust that light, chemistry, and intention will combine to reveal something worth keeping.
On a trip to Costa Rica, I packed the Minolta Weathermatic, a quirky little waterproof film camera that has become a favorite of mine for adventures where salt, sand, and surf would make quick work of a less rugged camera body. I loaded it with a roll of Kodak Gold 200, a film stock known for its warm tones, forgiving latitude, and nostalgic glow. Together, they were a fun pair for capturing this tropical trip.
Sunset at Dante’s Rock, Playa Grande, Costa Rica
A Camera Made for Adventure
The Minolta Weathermatic isn’t a precision tool. It’s boxy, bright, and obnoxiously yellow—more toy than real camera at first glance. But this little camera has a superpower: it’s waterproof, designed to be taken into the surf, dunked beneath waterfalls, or splashed with salt spray.
That freedom alone changes how you shoot. Instead of worrying about keeping your gear dry, you get to immerse yourself—literally—in the experience. Swimming out past the break with the camera dangling from my wrist, I felt a kind of lightness that’s rare in photography. No fear, no pressure, just curiosity. I’ll admit, I kept it above water, but there was still a freedom in knowing I didn’t have to be so precious with my equipment.
And when paired with Kodak Gold 200, the Weathermatic becomes a storyteller. Gold has a softness to it, a warmth that flatters both tropical greens and ocean blues. Its grain isn’t intrusive, but it carries just enough character to remind you that these aren’t clean digital files—they’re tangible impressions of light on film.
Sunset at Dante’s Rock, Playa Grande, Costa Rica
The Colors of a Costa Rican Sunset
Costa Rica is famous for its sunsets, and for good reason. On the Pacific coast, the sky seems to stretch endlessly, the horizon line softened by the rhythmic crash of waves. One evening, I found myself standing barefoot in the sand as the sun melted toward the water.
The resulting frame isn’t perfect. There are specks and dust marks on the negative, the gradient of the sky shifts unexpectedly, and the silhouettes blur at the edges. But that’s what I love about it. The imperfections tell a story. This isn’t a stock photo, polished and pristine—it’s a memory, captured honestly and held together by the chemistry of film.
The orange glow of the sun reflects across the water, mirrored in the wet sand, while the silhouette of a rocky outcrop anchors the horizon. Looking at the image now, I can almost feel the damp air on my skin and hear the sound of the tide rolling in.
Sunset in Playa Grande, Costa Rica
Surfing Through a Lens of Film
Of course, with a waterproof camera in hand, I couldn’t resist the chance to photograph the surfers. Shooting surfing on film is unpredictable. You can’t burst-shoot a dozen frames per second. You get one chance, maybe two, and then the moment is gone. Sometimes the surfer passes just out of frame, sometimes the focus drifts, and sometimes you nail it. When you do capture that perfect balance of motion and light, it feels like a gift.
Surf with Amigas Longboard House, Southern Costa Rica
One of my favorite frames from the roll shows a surfer carving across a green wave, his body bent low with concentration. The water in the foreground ripples toward the lens, catching bits of light, while the crest of the wave breaks into soft white spray.
Playa Grande, Costa Rica
Quiet Moments on Land
Not every frame was about chasing action or sunsets. The first week I was in Costa Rica, I attended Surf with Amigas Longboard Surf Retreat. I used a few frames to capture the surroundings of the property we stayed - truly tropical paradise at the edge of one of the best longboard waves in the world.
Low Tide at Surf with Amigas Longboard Surf Retreat
These images don’t shout. They whisper. They remind me of the slower parts of the trip—the hammock naps, the coffee before dawn as I stretched for the morning’s surf session, the rhythm that becomes everyday life in paradise.
Kodak Gold handled these muted moments beautifully. The greens of the palm trees came out rich but not overbearing, while the overcast sky softened the overall tone. Together, these frames balance the intensity of the surf and sunset images, grounding the series in the reality of travel: it’s not all dramatic vistas; sometimes it’s just the comfort of a quiet place to return to at the end of the day.
Casitas at Surf with Amigas Longboard Surf Retreat
The Beautiful Property at Surf with Amigas Longboard Surf Retreat
Flowering Trees at Surf with Amigas Longboard Surf Retreat
The Beauty of Imperfection
Film photography, especially with a camera like the Weathermatic, is full of surprises. Light leaks, scratches, exposure—these are often considered flaws, but I see them as part of the story. Each imperfection is a reminder that these images are handmade in a sense, touched by process and chance.
In a world where digital images can be manipulated endlessly, film feels refreshingly honest. You can’t scroll back through a hundred frames to pick the “best” one. You trust your instincts, click the shutter, and move on. Later, when the scans return, you get to relive the trip with fresh eyes.
And sometimes, the “mistakes” end up being your favorites. A slightly blurred surfer, a streak of light across a palm tree, a sunset that shifts color unexpectedly—these quirks bring the images closer to memory than to perfection.
Palm Trees in Playa Grande, Costa Rica
Why I Keep Shooting Film
Traveling with film is not always easy. Rolls of film take up space in your bag, airport security can be nerve-wracking, and you don’t know if you nailed the shot until weeks later. But it’s worth it.
Film slows me down. It encourages me to see more intentionally, to appreciate the beauty in fleeting moments, and to accept that not everything has to be flawless to be meaningful. In Costa Rica, it gave me a way to step outside of the constant chase for sharpness and resolution and instead capture the feeling of being there—the warmth, the chaos, the calm.
These images may not be perfect, but they are mine. They’re soaked in saltwater, touched by tropical light, and forever tied to the days I spent wandering beaches, swimming with surfers, and watching the sun disappear into the Pacific.
Film photography may take more patience, but in return it gives me something rare: images that are not only photographs, but pieces of time, imperfect and irreplaceable.
Looking back at these frames from Costa Rica, I’m reminded that photography doesn’t have to be perfect to be meaningful. The specks, the grain, and the softness are what make an image feel alive. Shooting film with the Weathermatic in salt water and tropical light reminded me to slow down, embrace imperfection, and simply enjoy the act of creating.
That’s the same spirit I try to carry into all of my work—whether it’s behind the lens, teaching, or leading retreats. Photography is about connection: to place, to light, and to ourselves.
If this way of seeing resonates with you, I’d love to invite you to join me—through my newsletter, where I share travel stories and photo inspiration, or at one of my photography retreats, where we gather to slow down, explore, and create together.
Because sometimes, photography isn’t about chasing perfection—it’s about capturing the wonder of simply being there.
